Scar Tissue
by jainanicole
Summary: Everyone has scars...Mulder and Scully share theirs. (Rated R for subject manner and language)


Scar Tissue  
  
  
  
The knock on the door came softly at first, then louder, more insistent. Mulder groaned and got up from where he was sitting, keeping the ice pack pressed firmly against his temple. He moved to the door to unlatch it, then thought the better of it.  
  
"Who is it?" he asked warily.  
  
"Mulder, it's me." Scully's irritated voice drifted through the heavy oak door. "Open up."  
  
Relieved, Mulder moved to undo the latch. As soon as the door was opened, Scully glided into the room, carrying a large cardboard box. She settled herself on the recently vacated bed, feet tucked under her, and looked at him expectantly. Mulder was aghast. Was this really his Scully? What was she doing? Was she finally going to cross those lines that they had kept so careful drawn between them? When a few moments had passed and he didn't move, Scully glared at him exasperatedly and patted the bed next to her. Now, Mulder was completely mystified. The Scully *he* knew would never be so...so open, and provocative. The Scully *he* knew had only done that in his wildest fantasies. Not at all sure what to do, Mulder settled for the obvious: nothing. As the silence progressed, so did the pain in his head. He winced, and then quickly regained his composure, but Scully had caught the small gesture of pain. She rolled her eyes.  
  
"Mulder, I know you think you're being all macho and everything...but if you don't sit down and let me look at those bruises, so help me god, I'll give you more- and *those'll* be worthy of complaint."  
  
Oh. Bruises. Ri-i-ight. All of a sudden, Mulder felt very stupid. He had a brief moment of embarrassment, and then it dawned on him just *what* she had said. Shit. Scully plus bandages and peroxide usually meant pain for him. He moved the ice pack away from his head and, despite the fact that his eye was swollen nearly to the point of being completely shut, grinned broadly at her.  
  
"Hey," he said, in a non-persuading tone, "It feels a lot better than it looks. Really. It does."  
  
Scully didn't look convinced.  
  
"Actually," Mulder continued, "I'm pretty sure that the swelling's gone down. See?"  
  
To emphasize his point, he prodded the tended area around his eye and flinched as a sharp pain shocked through his forehead.  
  
"Shit!"  
  
Scully bit her lip to hold back her laughter. "Yeah," she said, nodding, "I guess it has."  
  
Mulder glared at her. This time, Scully couldn't contain herself, and she burst out laughing.  
  
"Oh, yeah," Mulder said sullenly, "laugh at my pain."  
  
Then he grinned as well. Scully stifled another giggle and smiled at him, beckoning with her finger.  
  
"C'mon," she said, "Just lemme take a quick look at it. I promise it won't take long. What's the point of having a degree in medicine if you can't use it every now and then?"  
  
Mulder put up his hands in mock- defense.  
  
"I have no problem with the degree-in-medicine part," he said, "It's when you practice on me that I get nervous."  
  
Scully rolled her eyes and stared at him pointedly.  
  
"Alright, alright." Mulder said begrudgingly, and sat down on the bed beside her.  
  
Scully grinned.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
She reached up and gently took his face in her hands, turning it carefully towards her. Mulder stared blankly at her, trying not to think. Trying not to concentrate on the fact that her hands were gently smoothing back his hair, that she was so close to him. Trying not to breathe in her scent, intoxicating even at this distance. He found it hard.  
  
Scully deftly applied antiseptic cream to Mulder's injury, trying to ignore his whimpers of pain. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.  
  
"For God's sake, Mulder, hold still!"  
  
She punched him lightly in the arm, chiding him, and was shocked when he recoiled with pain. Her voice instantly became worried, her hands gentle.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
Mulder held his shoulder firmly, gritting his teeth, and didn't answer her, except for a small nod in her general direction. Scully carefully placed her hand over his, where it rested on his shoulder, and Mulder struggled not to jump under her touch. Her voice was gentle.  
  
"Mulder, can I take a look at your shoulder? I'm not trying to hurt you, I swear, I just want to make sure you're all right."  
  
Her voice sounded so worried, as if she were almost afraid that he didn't trust her to take care of him, that Mulder didn't have the heart to argue. He moved his hand out from under hers, carefully, and waited patiently for her to begin. Scully smiled and then a thought crossed her mind that made her frown. How the hell was she going to get at his shoulder through his shirt? Shit. Shit, shit, shit.  
  
Behind him, Scully mumbled something that Mulder didn't quite catch.  
  
"What?"  
  
Scully blushed and repeated her question: "Can you take off your shirt?"  
  
Mulder gave her a wicked grin. "I thought you'd never ask."  
  
Scully rolled her eyes. "Very funny, Mulder."  
  
Mulder smirked invitingly at her once more and then proceeded to pull his shirt over his head. Scully was aghast. His back was riddled with scars. Scully cursed under her breath.  
  
"Holy shit, Mulder...what happened?"  
  
He looked over his shoulder at her, warily. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Your back...I mean...it's all...you have so many scars!"  
  
Mulder shook his head in mock-sadness. "Ah, yes," he said valiantly, "the cost for truth can be high. But I'm brave..."  
  
Scully laughed, cutting him off. "Shut up, Mulder."  
  
He grinned broadly at her as she switched into serious mode.  
  
"Now, which shoulder hurts?" she asked him.  
  
He nodded his head towards his left shoulder, the one nearest to where she was sitting. She leaned in closer and peered at his shoulder.  
  
"Well, " she said, sounding for all the world like the doctor she was, "I don't see any abrasions or skin ruptures." She gently pressed on one part of his shoulder. "Does that hurt?"  
  
Mulder winced, and Scully took that as a yes. "Yeah, well, it's slightly discolored there, but luckily your skin didn't split. You probably just bruised it. It'll be sore for a while, but nothing a big...tough...guy like you can't handle," she said sarcastically.  
  
Mulder did a fake show of flexing his muscles, and Scully broke into giggles. Then she quieted down. There was a long and uncomfortable pause. The hotel room was silent, save for the incessant hum of the radiator.  
  
Mulder was the first to break the silence. "Aren't you gonna kiss it and make it better?"  
  
Scully stared at him.  
  
"What?" she asked, disbelieving.  
  
Mulder rolled his eyes. "God...what kind of doctor are you? I thought you were always supposed to kiss it and make it better. Isn't that some sort of rule or something? It always worked for me."  
  
Scully cut him off, amazed. "Yeah, Mulder, when you were *five*."  
  
Mulder stared back at her, pouting. "Oh, c'mon."  
  
"No, Mulder, I am NOT kissing your shoulder."  
  
Mulder shrugged the shoulder in question and gave her a bemused look. "Fine. Your loss."  
  
Scully grinned. "I'm sure."  
  
There was another long pause and then Scully yawned. She quickly moved her hand up to cover her mouth, but Mulder had seen the yawn. He smiled, and then gently reached out to brush a stray wisp of hair away from her face.  
  
"Get some sleep, Scully. Stop worrying about me and take care of yourself. Did you get any sleep at all while I was missing?"  
  
Wordlessly, Scully shook her head.  
  
Mulder smiled sadly. "Scully..."  
  
She put up her hands in defense, ready to say something, and then froze. Mulder was worried.  
  
"Scully, what's wrong?"  
  
Tentatively, Scully reached out and lightly traced a scar at the upper corner of Mulder's still-bare chest. When she spoke, her voice was a hesitant whisper.  
  
"Is that...?"  
  
Mulder nodded in answer to the unspoken question. Scully covered her face with her hands, a look of horror etched into her features.  
  
"Oh, my god," she mumbled, eyes wide behind her spread fingers, "Mulder, I am so sorry."  
  
There was a long silence, and Mulder knew both of them were remembering when she had shot him. Then Mulder reached out a hand and gently placed it on her shoulder.  
  
"Hey," he said carefully, "It's fine."  
  
Scully didn't look persuaded.  
  
"I swear. No, really, I like it. It makes me look brave."  
  
She didn't laugh.  
  
"Seriously, Scully, it helps me to remember. I mean, haven't you ever noticed that scars tell a story?"  
  
Scully looked bemused. "How so?" she asked.  
  
Mulder warmed to his story, glad that he had gotten her attention. "Well," he said, pointing to a crescent shaped scar on his left forearm, "I got this one when I was seven. Samantha had a temper tantrum and threw a game piece at me."  
  
Scully smiled softly. "Siblings."  
  
Mulder grinned as well. "I know."  
  
He rubbed his right shoulder. "And this one...I fell out of a tree at my tenth birthday party. Completely *ruined* the atmosphere. I had to spend that rest of the day in the Emergency Room." Scully laughed, and Mulder smiled, pleased that he had gotten her to do so. "What about you, Scully?" he asked, "Do you remember the story behind your scars?"  
  
Scully smiled, looking almost ashamed. "Well, I only have two."  
  
Mulder cut her off, amazed. "You've worked with me for six years and you only have two scars?!?"  
  
Scully smirked wryly. "Yeah, and I only got one of them while working with you."  
  
Mulder shook his head at her, tsk-ing his tongue. "Scully, I'm disappointed in you." There was a short pause, and then Mulder gestured towards her. "Well, lemme see!"  
  
Scully carefully pushed up her right sleeve to reveal a slim wrist. She gently turned it over, so that Mulder could now see the tender, lily-white skin of her inner wrist. A thin ivory line was etched neatly across it. Scully pointed towards that line. "I got that when I was eleven," she said, sounding almost embarrassed about it. "It was really dumb. Charlie and I were throwing a football around and I accidentally threw it over a fence, so I climbed the fence to get it. When I was at the top, I slipped and cut my wrist on a rusty nail." She laughed at the memory. "I was so scared, I'll admit it, but it was almost funny. I have never seen Charlie so scared in my life. He didn't even check to see if I was okay...just ran straight inside, nearly crying, and got mom." Scully chuckled at the memory, and Mulder, picturing her normally calm, easygoing brother filled with panic, laughed as well. "God, you're right," she said, smiling fondly. "I remember that day so well."  
  
"See?" Mulder said. "What about your other scar?"  
  
As soon as he said it, Mulder realized his mistake. Scully fell silent once more, and her hand unconsciously made its way up to her neck, as if by its own accord.  
  
"Shit." He said, not sure if he had said it aloud or merely in his own mind. Then aloud: "Scully, I'm sorry."  
  
She rubbed the nape of her neck thoughtfully. "It's okay," she said quietly.  
  
Mulder cursed himself silently. "No, Scully, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up."  
  
Scully looked up at him, tears glossing her brilliant blue eyes. "Mulder, it's fine."  
  
His heart ached. Of all the dumb things for him to say... Her voice jolted him back to her. "Mulder, look at me."  
  
He did.  
  
"My abduct...disappearance, my cancer: it wasn't your fault, okay? Do you hear me? You can't keep blaming yourself for things you didn't do."  
  
Her words hung in the air between them, and he knew she was just as aware as he was that they applied to both of them.  
  
Gently, Mulder reached out and clasped one of her hands, holding it as if it were some fragile jewel that would shatter irreparably, once dropped. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.  
  
"Can I see it?"  
  
Scully looked up, startled. "What?" she asked, in an equally hushed voice.  
  
Mulder's voice grew stronger as he gained more courage. "Can I see your scar?"  
  
Scully hesitated, unsure. It was a part of her she hated, a part of her life she wanted to forget. A part she wanted *Mulder* to forget...more than anything. And now, he wanted to remember, was asking her to help him remember. All of a sudden, Scully wasn't afraid. There was nothing to be afraid of. This was Mulder- he would never hurt her, she was sure of it. She trusted him completely, she believed in him...and, as much as she didn't want to admit it, she loved him.  
  
Scully carefully disentangled her hand from his, and stood up. Then she settled herself directly in front of Mulder, and gracefully drew her hair to the side to reveal a smooth ivory neck. Mulder stared at her, enraptured. She was so beautiful. The sun glinted off her fiery hair, setting her whole head elegantly ablaze, in stark contrast to the creamy skin now revealed, drawn taut, along an unblemished neck. Physically, yes, she was gorgeous, but what Mulder found most captivating was her trust in him. He knew that she was scared to let him see her scar- as she was with ALL of her scars, physical and emotional- scared to let him remember that horrible time, scared that he would pity her. God, she tried so hard to be strong, to be brave, to not let him see any of her flaws. She tried so hard...but he knew her, knew her better than most friends know each other, better even that a husband would know his wife. He knew every inch of her; each flaw, each perfection, each little quirk that she tried so hard to hide: all were permanently etched into his memory. That knowledge, now, allowed him to see her tremble slightly, allowed him to know just how scared she was. He could hear her labored breathing as she tried to sit nonchalantly in front of him. He lightly placed a hand on the warm skin where her shoulder sloped into her neck, and felt her jump under his touch.  
  
"Scully," he said, gently but firmly, "calm down."  
  
She turned her head lightly to look at him, and he felt her muscles ripple under his hand. Suddenly, Mulder felt himself grow quite warm, and the room itself seemed stifling. Scully bit her bottom lip, gently, and Mulder had to avert his eyes. He wanted her, HATED himself for wanting her...especially now, when she was so vulnerable, but he wanted her all the same.  
  
Guiltily, Mulder withdrew his hand. Scully looked at him, an unspoken question in her eyes.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.  
  
Wordlessly, he shook his head, and gently repositioned his hand. He couldn't let her see his guilt, couldn't let his face betray his emotions. He tried to act calm as she turned her neck again, fought to keep his hand steady. It took every ounce of control in his body for that one, simple action. But then, that was the effect she always had on him. Gently, carefully he traced the outline of her scar with his fingertip. Her skin was warm beneath his fingers, and he could feel her pulse. He swallowed. Hard. He hated being in this position, and yet it was exactly where they always seemed to end up. It was so frustrating: working with her, caring for her...yet at the same time knowing that loving her would be a breach of trust. Well, if so, he told himself, then he was a traitor. He wanted her, he was absolutely enamored of her, but it was more than just a physical appeal. Moreover, he trusted her, and respected her. Mulder knew without a doubt, that he would do anything for her, protocol be damned. He had never cared much for rules anyway. The only thing stopping him, the only thing holding him back, was...her. He knew that she trusted him not to cross professional boundaries, and that he had her complete confidence. To lose that...he couldn't risk it, as much as he wanted to. As much as his body ached to, to take her in his arms and make love to her through the night...God, she'd kill him if she knew what he was thinking right now. As much as he wanted to love her, he couldn't risk it. That was the bottom line: he WOULDN'T risk it. Her trust in him was a hundred times more important to him than a simple, physical pleasure.  
  
Mulder sighed, almost inaudibly, but Scully caught it. Caught the warm brush of air, soft against her skin. Caught the tensing in Mulder's fingers, still splayed across her neck, his thumb still lightly tracing her scar. Scully, for her part, was having a hard time breathing. Every sense in her body was alert, charged by the electric tension she could feel between them. Each touch of his fingertips against her bare skin sent a fresh wave of sensation coursing through her body. She could almost feel his hands searing her hands, burning her...warming her, yet at the same time making her want to shiver. It was amazing, the range of emotions she experienced with him, and yet it wasn't enough. She wanted more, wanted *closer*, wanted him. Scully felt guilty, enjoying this personal attention of a kind she rarely got from him. He always seemed hesitant to touch her, determined to keep things at a strictly plutonic level. She was damned if she knew why. Couldn't he see how much she wanted him? But, no... He was always so...so *controlled* and careful around her. She supposed she should be grateful for that- someone had to keep their head, or else things could get horribly, disastrously out of hand. Their whole relationship could be ruined by a single impromptu encounter...and that was something she was NOT willing to sacrifice. But still... Sometimes, just sometimes, Scully wondered what it would be like if things were different. What it would be like if, instead of carefully locking him out each night that they shared conjoining motel rooms, she could take him in- into her bed, into her body, into her heart. Yes, she wondered what it would be like if things were different...WANTED them to be different, even. Sometimes, when she was sold at night, or lonely, she wished that Mulder was there to keep her warm, keep her safe. Then again, it was times like those that she missed Daniel, as well, missed the way he would hold her close for hours. Maybe, she thought, it wasn't Daniel OR Mulder that she wanted; maybe it was just the heat of another person, the protection or companionship...regardless of who provided it. That theory fit for Daniel, if she applied it to him, but for Mulder...well, for Mulder, she knew it was only selling him short. She and Mulder had something special. This kind of relationship wasn't something found every day, she could feel it. She could feel it in the way Mulder gently rested his idle hand on the small of her back, as if steadying her, protecting her. In the way that his nimble fingers lazily continued dancing across her neck. It was almost entrancing, the ease with which he would settle into this comfortable routine, so content in their partnership. In the back of her mind, she heard Melissa's voice, the same as she had heard it after her first break up. "Not every guy is the one," she had said, gently smoothing Scully's hair where it rested on her lap, "and you've got to learn to recognize that, reconcile that, and get on with your life. But someday you're gonna find that one...and you can't let him go, Dana. That would be the biggest mistake you could ever make." Scully had heard her, and understood, but...dammit, Mulder seemed so *sure* of where he wanted them to go, what he wanted them to do...and to her, the message was clear. They had a wonderful friendship, why go and ruin it with tension and heartbreak especially after the both of them had been hurt before? Maybe the gentle caress of his hands on her WAS merely friendly; maybe she was reading more into his actions than was actually there.  
  
Mulder's next actions proved her wrong. His hands left her neck and back and moved down to encircle her waist. Scully could almost feel all the air in her body leave her in one quick instant. She thought she had never felt such a head-rush, felt so giddy and delirious, in her whole life...but Mulder proved even that wrong when he arched his own neck and gently kissed hers. Her neck. Her scar. His hands moved gently, hesitantly...flat against her stomach, they seemed determined to draw every last breath out of her already breathless lungs. Scully sat immobile in his embrace, frozen with shock, as Mulder continued to press feathered kisses along her neck and her shoulders. She had never felt so *comfortable* in her life, yet at the same time... Something in the back of her frantic mind told her that she had to stop this, and NOW. If she didn't, who knew where this could lead, what problems it could present in their work together? Certainly, if she stopped it now, there would be some awkwardness...but not nearly as much as there would be if she let it continue. For a quick moment, however, she toyed with the idea of letting him go on, of letting herself go. She thought wistfully of what it might be like if she allowed him to continue to kiss her...to touch her...to love her. What it might be like if she not only allowed him, but answered with her own fire, returned his love. They would make love if she didn't stop this...and soon...the response of Mulder's body against hers left her with no doubt of that. Did she want that? God, yes, but did he...?  
  
As she sat, lost in thought, shock numbing her to all but the feeling of HIM, Scully felt Mulder draw away. Had he read her mind? Then she realized that she was sitting up, straight as a board, her hands clasped nervously in her lap. It wasn't her mind he had read...it was her body. She turned to look at him, and saw the hurt in his eyes. Scully felt horrible, but surely he could see what a mistake that would have been. Right? Suddenly, Scully wasn't so sure of herself anymore. She looked at Mulder and saw the same uncertainty reflecting back at her. Even worse, she saw guilt in Mulder's eyes and realized, with a start, just how bad he must be feeling. She knew he tried to protect her...what a loss to realize that he had to protect her from himself. She tried to search for something comforting to say, but couldn't find anything remotely helpful. An awkward silence filled the room, surrounding them until Scully felt she could suffocate from it. Not sure what to do, she cleared her throat and slowly rose from the bed. Her skin tingled as the cool air surrounded it, and she immediately missed Mulder's warmth...but, obviously, she couldn't tell him that. She raised her eyes to look into his, but what she saw there made her avert them almost at once. He looked so...so hurt She wanted so much to make everything better, but she knew that was impossible. He had done nothing wrong...and yet, somehow, it felt as if he had. Not knowing what else to do, Scully faked a yawn, and gave Mulder a weak smile.  
  
"Look," she said carefully, "I'm gonna get some rest, all right?"  
  
Mulder didn't answer her, save for a slight nod.  
  
Scully turned, resigned, and headed for the door. Just as her hand closed over the doorknob, Mulder's voice stopped her.  
  
"I still think you should have kissed it and made it better," he said wryly.  
  
Scully turned to look at him, and found a sarcastic smile on his face. She rolled her eyes, but was secretly relieved.  
  
"Goodnight, Mulder," she said quietly.  
  
"Night, Scully."  
  
The door swung shut behind her, and she gently leaned against it, allowing herself a small smile as she thought of what had just occurred. Then she headed off down the hall.  
  
*Goodnight, Mulder*  
  
Sweet dreams, Scully. 


End file.
